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Quinn blinked, the beer in his hand already half way to his mouth. He blinked again, wondering if the sight before him was going to go away. It didn't.
"Hey, Jack?" Quinn called, not moving from where he was stood looking out the kitchen window. He didn't even need to turn his head to make sure Jack was still in the kitchen, he could still here Jack fumbling around in the pantry looking for solo cups.
A thud could be heard from the pantry and the rustling from the pantry stopped. Jack let out a pained groan. "Fuck, ow. Yeah, Quinn?"
"Why does Zegras have a shovel?"
There was a return in the rustling noises of Jack's search from the pantry. "He's gonna dig a hole, obviously." He sounded a little annoyed, like Quinn was asking a stupid question instead of the rather reasonable one he was asking.
Quinn was quiet for a second before calmly responding. "Why is Trevor Zegras digging a hole in our backyard?"
"Ah ha!" After a moment, Jack joined Quinn at the window, holding a stack of red solo cups under his good arm. "For the fire." Once again, his tone made it sound like this all should have been obvious to Quinn.
Thoughts swirled around through Quinn's head at the moment, the main one being why did they need a fire in the backyard in the first place but he supposed the more important thing would be to tackle why the fuck this idiot had gotten chosen to be in charge of it. "You're letting Zegras start a fire in our backyard?"
Jack squinted at Quinn. "Who else was gonna do it?"
Quinn barely stopped himself from throwing his hands in the air and shaking his idiot little brother. "Literally anyone else. Genuinely, I guarantee he is the least qualified person for this."
Jack's face wrinkled as he frowned. "It's not like he's gonna burn the house down, Quinny." He paused for a moment, looking around the kitchen. "Where did I put the beer?"
"Cole took the six-pack you walked in with as soon as you went in the pantry." Quinn replied dismissively. He squinted as he watched Trevor continue to dig. "How is Trevor even setting a fire?"
"Luke gave him a lighter." Jack dropped the solo cups onto the counter, turning towards the fridge to get more beer.
Quinn sighed. Even he could admit that one was a bit of a stupid question. He watched as Trevor set down the shovel and presumably started to prepare to start a fire in the hole. Quinn still didn't entirely understand why the fire needed to be in a hole but at least Trevor wasn't just going to be setting the grass on fire.
"Oh, fuck!" Jack yelped as several dozens of plastic solo cups clattered to the floor.
Rolling his eyes, Quinn leaned down to help Jack pick up the cups. Jack was always clumsy when he was drunk, this was nothing new. He broke their mom's favorite flower vase when he snuck back in late completely drunk after a party when he was sixteen. He was eighteen when he drunkly walked into a glass sliding door and almost showed up to draft combine with two black eyes.
As Quinn stacked up the cups, he heard a whoosh, followed by a thump from somewhere behind him. He froze, the cups slipping from his fingers.
A voice that was unmistakably Luke's ran out through the heavy silence. "Holy fuck! The tree's on fire!"
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Quinn glared at Trevor from across the table. Trevor's hair was slightly charred and his shirt was covered in dirt.
"Never again."
Trevor tried to defend himself, "It was just a couple branches! They totally went out on their own and-"
"Never. Again." Quinn interrupted.
Trevor blinked. He nodded and stayed silent. This was, in Quinn's opinion, the first smart thing he'd done all night.
"I've never seen Quinn run that fast," Luke whispered to Jack, going quiet when Quinn turned his glare in his brothers' direction.
Quinn sighed, letting his head fall to the table with a thud. He was so tired. "I don't even fucking care."
Trevor scrambled up out of the chair and made a run for it. Jack walked into a wall somewhere behind him. Quinn groaned.